


Cataclysm Over the Forest Moon

by Changed_Daily



Category: Hmofa, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Battle of Endor (Star Wars), Ewoks (Star Wars), F/M, Star Wars Galactic Empire Era, Stormtrooper Culture (Star Wars), This Work Is A Sin Against God
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Changed_Daily/pseuds/Changed_Daily
Summary: An extended Star Wars piece I'm working on as a side project. This piece will be my greatest sin against God and assure my passage into the flaming pits of Gehenna when completed.
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

“All Regiment 3 Stormtroopers report to the docking bay for mission briefing.” The message blared over the cabin speaker, repeating twice every minute. SB-3421 woke up in a crowded bunk to the clatter of Stormtroopers putting on their plastoid armor. He grumbled as he removed himself from the bed and followed the example of his fellow soldiers, donning a brown shoulder piece along with the rest of the standard uniform.

After making sure all of his gear was locked on to his person correctly, he stepped out into the corridor, following the rest of his regiment into the briefing room.

“I think this is the day we finally get deployed.” said one trooper.

“I hope so. If I have to do latrine duty one more time I’m going to lose my mind.” commented another.

“Where do you think we’ll be stationed?” asked a third.

“Probably some Outer Rim backwater. It has to be a classified order if they haven’t told us anything yet.”

The incessant chatter continued until an Imperial Army officer in a gray uniform and hat stepped up from a group of several others to address the crowd. Immediately, all troopers, including SB-3421 stood at full attention.

“At ease, Regiment 3. Let’s make this swift.” A hologram of a planetoid appeared to the right of the officer. “All of you are to be deployed to moon IX3244-A, the sanctuary moon of Endor. The moon is heavily forested and has a breathable atmosphere and moderate climate. Its water is drinkable.”

In a voice devoid of any emotion, he continued. “Most of you will be assigned to defend the shield generator operating on the planet’s surface.” A red dot appeared on the top hemisphere of the hologram. “This generator protects a high-priority military project being constructed within the moon’s orbit.”

“Any troopers not assigned to guard this generator will serve as security detail for other bases and outposts on the planet’s surface. In particular, Endor Research Facilities 7 and 9 require additional personnel to resume function.” Several yellow dots appeared the display, representing important control points on the planet.

The officer then changed the display to one of a speeder bike. “Newer recruits who lack specialization may be assigned to Scout duty. These troopers will be assigned a new uniform and receive training on use of the 74-Z speeder bike. Consult your C.O. if you hope to volunteer for this position.”

SB-3421 zoned out during most of this briefing, a bored expression behind the helmet. Everything important to his assignment would be explained once he got on to the transport ship, this was just a formality. Still, he maintained a stoic position while the officer droned on, as was expected of a Stormtrooper.

The grey-shirt gave a few final remarks regarding expectations of behavior. “Strict sanctions will be placed on those who defy direct orders or share confidential information with unauthorized persons. Understand that the price of treason is a swift death at the hands of your former comrades. Any other questions or concerns can be answered or addressed at the discretion of your commanding officers. Dismissed.”

SB-3421 followed most of his fellow Stormtroopers down to the mess hall. The faceless group held a range of emotions regarding their new assignment from overt enthusiasm to mild distaste, vocalizing them as soon as they were out of earshot from the imperial overseers.

3421 got into the mess hall line behind the other soldiers. When it was finally his turn at the food dispenser, he grabbed himself a ration pack and a piece of fruit. He almost gagged when he saw some of the others take the liquid nutrition supplement in a thermos. “Who would voluntarily drink that sludge?” he muttered.

When he got off the line, he moved towards his platoon’s designated eating area. Meal time was just about the only time of the day a Stormtrooper could meet a friendly face, or any face at all from their platoon. Removing his own helmet, he sat down and placed his tray on the table. The other soldiers greeted him.

“Surge! Good to see you!” shouted SB-3435, a fresh recruit with bronze skin and short dark hair. “I was just talking to Bullseye over here about how great it was going to be to finally get deployed on-world. It’s going to feel great to see a color that isn’t a shade of gray.”

SB-3417, a slightly older trooper with pale skin and a shaved head replied “The novelty will wear off quick when you realize how little there is to do on Outer Rim worlds. It’s always one of two extremes, a strategically worthless rock where you fill out documents all day, or a real post where one minute you’re polishing your armor and the next you’re playing catch with a thermal detonator.” He turned to the new arrival. “Surge, you’ve been serving for years. What do you think?”

“I think you should both cut it out with the nicknames. You can call me Surge when you have a crossbow bolt in your chest or you get your hand stuck in a Landspeeder Turbine. Under any other circumstances, my operating number is SB-3421. Did you forget that from basic?”

Both of the younger troopers deflated at the criticism. “Sorry, 21.” muttered 3435.

Surge took a bite out of his fruit. He couldn’t recognize the kind by looking at it, and it tasted waxy and artificial. It always did, but it still went down a lot easier than that liquid Bantha fodder they produced by the metric ton.

“17 is right on the credits,” the older trooper said, “and judging from how confidential this operation is, my guess is that it’s going to be the latter. I’m not excited about the probable death sentence either, but we all knew what we were getting into when we joined the Stormtrooper Corps. If you wanted to dawdle around on a Core world, you should have joined the grey-shirts.”

17 looked over at a table occupied by officers a few dozen meters away. “Sometimes I wish I did. I thought there would be more prestige in being a buckethead.”

“There’s plenty of prestige in being a Stormtrooper, we’re the Empire’s golden boys, the galaxy’s peacekeepers. You just have to retire on a decent world to see it,” he said half-heartedly.

“Why haven’t you retired then? Don’t you have enough years?”

Surge took a pause to come up with a satisfactory answer. His two comrades waited on him as the chatter from the rest of the hall continued. “Truth be told, it’s pretty hard to retire without damning yourself to debt. I’m waiting for the war to end so the brass can afford to give me a better payout. As far as what’s keeping me going? I want to make sure as many of my fellow soldiers see the end of this conflict as possible. What good does protecting the Empire do if we aren’t allowed to enjoy the fruits of our labor?”

The two nodded and focused back on finishing their meals.

Surge ate the last bite of his rations and put on his helmet. The Imperial Army loathed inefficiency, and every extra minute he wasted in the mess hall was one he could be performing another task, or practicing his aim, or making sure that his equipment was up to scrutiny.

As he walked down a now empty corridor back to his cabin, he received a transmission on his comlink. “Collect your personal items and gear. Regiment 3 departures begin in an hour and a half.”

“Already?” he asked to no one. That was very little time to pack for a long-term deployment. What was so urgent that reinforcements needed to be sent so quickly and quietly?

Surge went into his cabin and began to pack his equipment into a small tote for easy transport. Alongside this, he stuffed in a personal HoloNet caster, a set of civilian clothes and an old wooden necklace of Twi’lek design. He ran his fingers over that last memento for just a few seconds, pondering on what could have been before shaking to his senses and stuffing it away. It wouldn’t reflect well on him to keep something like this unless it was a trophy of battle, stained in the blood of those who fought to protect it. As it stood, it was almost pristine.

Tote in hand, Surge reported to the hangar bay much earlier than his squad-mates in the hopes of smoothing out the departure. With so few soldiers in the hangar, however, and no instruction on which ship to report to, the Stormtrooper found himself befuddled. He turned on his comlink and switched it to match the frequency of his commanding officer.

“Sergeant, come in. Were we assigned transport ships yet?”

“Operating number?” The voice on the other end was stern and slightly muffled by static.

“SB-3421.”

“21? I’m not your C.O. any more. They already have medical droids at the shield generator, so the higher-ups deemed it more valuable to place any medics at the outposts.”

Surge had grown accustomed to his superior’s inability to give him an effective answer. “I’m in a different squad now? Do you have the call number of my new C.O.?”

“He should be summoning his remaining subordinates right now. Give him a couple minutes and he’ll contact you via the comlink.”

And with that, Surge changed the frequency on his com link and disconnected from his old Sergeant for the last time. No goodbyes, no acknowledgement of months of service together, of the times where they covered each other’s backs. To each other, they were now as they always were, faceless, nameless allies. Surge didn’t think twice of it.

With little else to do, the Stormtrooper sat down on his tote and looked hangar into the empty space outside of the ship’s shield. It was a sight he greeted often enough, at least when placed on short or medium missions in which he would return to the same ship. Traveling through the cold, empty void of space was something that united every Stormtrooper. There must have been another soldier in another Star Destroyer somewhere, looking at those same stars and that same void from within the confines of the hangar’s dynamic field or the cockpit of a Starfighter or a troop transport.

Surge’s reverie was interrupted by the buzz of his comlink. Quickly, he adjusted the frequency to clean up the audio from his helmet.

“…Copy, I repeat, SB-3421 do you copy?” the speaker sputtered.

Surge didn’t hesitate. “I copy. What’s your call number, sir?”

“SB-32, I’m your new C.O. Report to Transport 14, it’s a DX-9 vessel located towards the bow end of the hangar. I’ll brief everyone at your new station.”

He dragged his tote down to Transport 14, where a number of Stormtroopers were packing away their own equipment. In the center of the transport’s entrance ramp stood one wearing an orange shoulder pauldron. This one addressed Surge and stepped off the ramp to greet him.

“You must be our new medic,” said the captain. He stuck out his hand. “Honor to work with you.”

Surge rolled his eyes behind his helmet. It was irritating to hear dishonest or delusional commanders pretend that there was any value in forming more than the most basic sense of camaraderie. One of the first lessons in basic is to leave the injured behind to complete the mission, and the empire only saw the use of medics as relevant in defensive assignments.

Still, even he knew better than to start things off on the wrong foot with his new C.O. He took the captain’s hand and gave it a good shake. “The feelings are mutual sir.”

“You got here earlier than I expected.” stated the captain.

“I got here early so we could lift off sooner. I didn’t realize that I would be placed with a new squad.”

“That’s the kind of attitude we need more of around here, getting right into the action. Put your equipment in storage and take your place among your fellow soldiers.”

Surge followed these commands and took a space near the port side of the transport. Once the last of the troopers was on board, the captain pushed his way towards the front of the company and the entrance ramp folded up, sealing with a hiss.

Surge and many of his comrades braced themselves for lift-off by holding on to handles on the walls and ceiling. The DX-9 had a reputation for being a deathtrap due to its cramped design and lack of adequate defenses, and its tendency for rough lift-offs and landings only served to tarnish that weak reputation further.

With the craft out of the docking bay, the Stormtroopers relaxed and started to talk to each other. Most besides Surge seemed to know a few troopers in their new position, and so he was left alone.

Surge stood for the duration of the voyage, occasionally looking around the dark, loud room. If this mission turned out to be as dangerous as he had anticipated than it was a blessing he didn’t know anybody here. No need to get attached to a walking corpse.

After about an hour, the captain told his soldiers to prepare for landing, which prompted another round of grabbing on to anything bolted down. Even with this warning, a few of the men managed to lose their footing and fall. Another trooper remarked that these must be the new recruits.

The ramp descended with a hiss, revealing a ground covered in lush green plants. The captain stepped forward as soon as the ramp touched the ground, looking around for potential threats. With nothing in sight, he motioned for the rest of his new platoon to follow him on the new planet.

Surge was among the last to leave the shuttle, only going before two of his new colleagues. He removed his tote from the storage area, dragging it down the ramp with haste. Upon setting foot on the new planet, he was greeted by the sight of a cloudy blue sky and colossal trees hiding much larger mountains from view. In that clear blue sky was a large planet and another, artificial object.

He squinted at the object, trying to get a better view of it through his mask. The thing looked like an incomplete version of the Death Star that had destroyed 3 years ago, although it seemed that the laser was almost operational in its current state.

There was a small fortress close to the landing zone, holding numerous vehicles such as speeder bikes and walkers. A large stockpile of goods to be transported further was guarded by multiple troopers, and there was a large, gray building in the center of the camp.

The captain called all of his subordinates to attention as the last stragglers took their effects out of the ship. Every Stormtrooper got into place, hands at their sides.

“Gentlemen,” said the captain. “Welcome to the Sanctuary Moon of Endor.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Did they really tell you all nothing about our objective here?” asked an imperial officer, face wrinkled by both age and frustration.

“No, General Mogdane, command was extremely concerned with the security of intelligence. They expected us to defer to you.” The captain retained an upright position in his uniform, careful to show proper respect to the general.

“Those nerf-herders always love to find new ways to waste my time.” muttered the general.

Mogdane turned away from the Stormtrooper captain to address the platoon. “Listen up, troopers, because I’m not going to repeat myself. This is Station 5. It’s a checkpoint that functions as one of many intermediates to transport building supplies to the DS-II project.” Surge and the others followed his finger towards the second Death Star. “Some of you will stay on base and some will act as supply runners or scouts. Regardless of your assignment, your objective is to guard those supplies with your lives. They’re crucial for the completion of this operation, and for the security of our Empire as a whole.”

Surge clenched one of his fists.

Another trooper asked “Is there rebel activity on this planet? Do we need to be prepare for firefights?” Some of the other troopers perked up at this, excited to get their hands dirty.

The general’s wrinkles deepened as he tried to generate a suitable answer. “No,” he said. “Rebel interference comes up occasionally, but the greatest threat to our operations here is the locals.” He retrieved a holoprojector from his person and turned it on, displaying a short, fuzzy bipedal creature wearing a hood and wielding a crude spear. “This is an Ewok.”

“Locals? They didn’t tell us anything about sentients on the surface during briefing.” said the Stormtrooper captain.

“Of course they wouldn’t. High command wrote them off as fauna for being so primitive. We found out the hard way during the construction of the shield generator.” The device projected a recording of a log on a rope swinging down, smashing into a Stormtrooper. Another showed an Imperial officer being gored on a spike trap.

“Nasty little savages, aren’t they?” muttered the captain.

“And we have no numbers on them either. We torch them every time we can find a nest, but the pests fight tooth and nail whenever we need to clear more land.” He turned off the recording. “You all heard my conversation with your commanding officer. If any of you spot an Ewok or any other unidentified life form within the parameters of the outpost, kill it on sight. Otherwise, don’t engage without orders. They’re adept at building traps, and we’ve already lost a few soldiers on patrol. Any questions?”

“How do we volunteer for the speeder bike training?” asked an unmarked trooper. Surge recognized this voice as belonging to one of the new recruits.

The general motioned towards the durasteel building in the center of the camp. “SC-441 is in there. He’s been ordered to train selected troopers to use the speeder bikes for scout duty. Any questions regarding your mission?” Silence. “No? I’ll be on my way then.”

The general hopped on to the transport ship, which the platoon watched as it pushed itself off the ground and blasted off into the distance.

Surge moved his tote into his new berthing unit, where a few troops followed him. His bunk was comfortable enough for him, and everything was recently cleaned judging by the sterile smell in the air.

Another soldier entered the room and placed his tote onto the top bunk. He stuck out his hand. “SB-4238. Guess we’re rooming together for the time being.” The voice was that of the wannabe scout.

Surge took his hand and shook it. “SB-3421. I suppose we are.”

“Are you planning on taking the speeder bike training course later?”

“I have no interest.”

The wannabe cocked his head. “Why not? It looks really exhilarating, and you get new armor if you’re chosen as a scout trooper.”

“Something about those speeders rubs me the wrong way, I can’t imagine using one. Besides,” Surge shifted his shoulder piece forward. “I’m already specialized as a medic.”

38 nodded. “That makes sense. Well, it was nice talking to you, 21. I’m going to go grab some food in the mess hall. Maybe we can talk some more later.”

“Sure, sure.”

Surge finished unpacking all of his equipment and hid all of his personal items back under his bunk. He pulled out and put on the portable bacta tank that came with his equipment. It was always helpful to have a small amount on hand. He also took out his personal medkit, filled with various medications for conditions that couldn’t be solved with liberal bacta application.

He heard a noise from the barrack door and looked up to see the Captain waiting on him.

“Greetings, 21. Any issues with the living quarters?”

“No issues here, Captain. Everything looks well maintained. I was told I was stationed here because of my specialization; did you need me in the medical bay?”

The captain paused for a moment, then said, “We can’t have you doing transport so stick with tower duty for now. We’ll call you if we need you in medical. Just try to avoid using bacta for minor injuries as a general rule, high command says they won’t be sending much our way.”

“Understood.”

Surge followed the Captain outside into the camp, where an armored transport vehicle was being unloaded by several Stormtroopers. Crates filled with durasteel parts were unloaded in the camp for inspection by imperial officers, and another set from the previous vehicle would be loaded back on to be sent further down the route.

He climbed up to the top of the guard tower, where two other troopers were waiting. He picked up an E-11 blaster rifle from the rack. Without turning their heads, one motioned for the medic to come over. Surge understood and looked out at the camp’s surroundings.

“Got a good view of everything?” The soldier asked, keeping his eyes on his post.

“All angles covered.” replied Surge.

This Stormtrooper nodded, climbing down the tower, placing his own weapon back onto the rack and disappearing into the crowd.

From the watchtower, Surge got an excellent view of the compound gate and its surrounding area. The forest canopy still loomed above, but the forest floor was teeming with grass, ferns and brush of all kinds. This was, of course, save for the roads that connected Station 5 to its neighbors. These dirt paths were worn-down by the continued patronage of armored transport vehicles.

These vehicles, along with speeders, could exit the compound as they pleased, but could only enter with a valid Stormtrooper or Imperial Army Call Number. Only then would the tower guard be authorized to permit entry.

After about an hour, this companion spoke up. “I wish this was more interesting. I’ve seen that same verkle skitter ‘round fer the past 15 minutes.”

“Are you from the Outer Rim?”

“Cantonica. The accent that much of a giveaway?” The Stormtrooper chuckled.

“Believe me, the last thing you want to see is an “interesting” shift.” said the medic. “When you’ve been serving as long as I am, you know that missions like these can be plenty dangerous, and that a boring shift is a safe one.”

“So what if I get banged up a little? That’s what we got you fer’, doc.” Surge rolled his eyes. “I need a few war stories for my next of kin. How am I going to tell them I screwed around at a tower all day? I need to see some action already!”

“It’s 21, and they will be happier that you’ve survived your service at all. You know how the locals fight, let’s just hope we don’t get put on patrol any time soon.” As he finished saying this, Surge observed rustling from some shrubs in the distance. It sounded like a wild animal, but he kept his eye on it regardless.

“The locals? Hah! General Mogdane is exaggerating ‘cause he got jumped on a patrol once by the fuzzballs. Ewoks are primitive, barely-sentient cowards that run from the first sign of danger. Only recorded incidents of violence have been close to the shield generator, and that’s on the other side of the moon. Don’t give ‘em too much concern.”

The rustling started up again, and Surge readied his rifle. He could see a peek of what looked like red fabric and brown fur peeking out from the brush.

The other guard continued. “Sometimes, when we see the bastards from the tower, we like to take pot-shots at ‘em.” He guffawed. “Scares the dung outta them. You ain’t heard nothing until you’ve heard an Ewok scream for mama. Does wonders fer’ breakin’ up the day.”

“Mm hm.” Surge ignored his partner and looked down his sights at the creature. It had raised its head from the brush, following the guard tower up to the top, and was now staring directly at him. He trained his aim at the little alien, expecting it to start running, but it wouldn’t move. It stayed within his reticle, staring directly at him with its beady little eyes. He began to press down onto the trigger, still no movement from the alien. Surge had no experience with Ewoks, but this one looked stiff, almost frozen with fear.

His resolve broke. He pointed his gun much higher and fired off a couple of bolts away from the alien. He motioned with his gun for the Ewok to run towards his left. It seems that it understood the visual command, and hobbled out of sight in that direction. Surge let out a sigh of relief.

“You see somethin’?” asked the other Stormtrooper.

“It’s probably just another wild animal, I’ll investigate it once my shift here is over.”

“Alright.”

The rest of the shift passed by. The other Stormtrooper was replaced by a new one shortly after Surge’s first encounter. A couple more Imperial vehicles passed through the checkpoint. After another hour of this, his own replacement came up, and he put away the rifle and climbed down the ladder.

With no calls to the medical wing during the day, Surge spent the rest of his doing cargo inspection. He had a decent meal at the mess hall, one that offered fresh fruit, to his surprise. He even went to the training range that the older arrivals had already set up, complete with wanted posters of infamous rebels such as Wedge Antilles and Leia Organa acting as targets.

He followed his comrades back to the barracks after sunset. The moon’s day-night cycle was shorter than the galactic standard by about 6 hours, meaning that the troopers were expected to make significant adjustments to their own schedule. With his bunkmate nowhere in sight yet, Surge relaxed for the first time all day. “Maybe I’ll survive this deployment after all,” he whispered to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

On a particularly hot Endor day, Surge found himself on inspection duty once again. Most of his comrades loathed the job due to how uninteresting the work managed was, but the camp medic found himself volunteering for it more often than not during his deployment. His medical training and eye for detail made him a natural fit for the work, and it kept him on-site, so there were no complaints from the captain.

He looked up at the sky at the second Death Star. It was hard to see without binoculars but on inspection it seemed as if much more of the bottom was completed in the last few months.

Surge got back to inspecting the cargo. Another durasteel shipment came in, and General Mogdane would throw a fit if any important custom-cut pieces were missing. It was of the highest priority that everything was accounted for. 

The medic was about to get to work organizing everything when he received a buzz on his comlink.

“21, are you there?” The voice seemed frantic and out of breath.

“Is that 38 on the other end? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, it’s 38, listen! I was on my patrol route when my speeder malfunctioned and I got thrown off. I can’t move my right arm and the speeders busted, I need help out here!”

Surge tried to lower his voice. “Calm down, panicking will only make things worse. I’ll tell the captain to send somebody for you. Do you know where you are?”

38’s voice started to come out muffled. “I’m a… 7 kilometer… tation Fi..”

“Your comlink might be jammed. 7 kilometers north from Station 5?”

“Sou…” 

Communication cut out completely. Surge immediately radioed in to the captain’s frequency.

“SB-3421 on the line sir! One of our scouts had a malfunction during his patrol, about 7 kilometers on the South trail.”

“We’ll take care of the rescue, thanks for the heads-up. Get to the medical bay immediately.” The captain disconnected the line. Before even two minutes had passed, a Scout Trooper had gotten onto their bike and left the camp in search of their fallen comrade.

As ordered, Surge left the inspection to the other troopers and got his tools ready in the medical bay, opening up his medkit and sterilizing the area. He wouldn’t know exactly what he needed until his patient arrived and he could get a closer look at the soldier’s wounds.

There was little concern for the safety of the troops on deployment during the initial construction of the compound, and so the medical bay was nothing more than a converted vehicle garage with a small bacta tank. An upside to this, however, was the large entrance, which was very easy to carry a trooper through.

The speeder bike returned to camp with its injured passenger on the back seat. Both the driver and the captain worked to carry 38 to the sanitized cot that Surge prepared.

“41, what was his condition when you found him?” asked the captain.

“Barely conscious, twisted on his side. The speeder was totaled, we think it might have been a steel cord trap. Damage to the front of the vehicle is consistent with that. He wouldn’t have survived the crash, so he must have jumped off.”

“Check his vitals.” Surge commanded.

The driver nodded and took off the patient’s helmet and chest piece. Then, he held his finger to the patient’s neck. “Breathing is rapid, pulse is weak. There’s some blood pooled around his right arm, doc.”

Surge nodded and handed the scout a pair of medical shears and white patch. “Cut off the armor and find out where the blood is coming from. Make sure that the whole wound is covered, if you don’t he might lose the arm. I need to do CPR.”

41 cut into the body glove, allowing the armor to easily fall off. In one place, however, the plating was so deformed that it became lodged into 38’s flesh. The scout pulled on this piece, maneuvering it carefully to reduce any bleeding he could. 

“I think I found where all of that blood came from,” he remarked, applying the patch to completely cover the wound.

As he did this, Surge took off his own helmet and began CPR on his comrade. He lifted the troopers head, making sure that his airway was clear. The medic began to pump at the wounded soldier’s heart, keeping at a steady pace for half of a minute as the captain and a few nearby Stormtroopers began to watch. He delivered a few rescue breaths each minute, cursing under his breath as he worked to revive the still unconscious trooper.

“Stay with me, come on!”

After 4 cycles of rescue breaths and chest compressions, 38 finally started to breathe normally. Both troopers took a step back to recover. Then, after wiping his forehead with his cleaner arm, Surge began attaching a number of monitors to his patient’s chest and head, then started looking at the wounds on the rest of his body.

“Alright, the show’s over. Let 38 rest.” The captain started to disperse the other soldiers, and 41 disappeared with his speeder.

“He should be stable, but I want to be here in case anything changes.” said the medic, glancing at the monitors.

The captain patted Surge on the shoulder. “Do whatever you gotta do to get him back on his feet. Good work today, soldier.”

Surge held his head high for the rest of that shift. Praise from superiors wasn’t common in the Stormtrooper corps.

After taking off the rest of 38’s armor plating, he looked closer at the soldier’s arm. His whole upper arm seemed to be swelling, and there was a bit of bone sticking out on one side. Surge wrapped a cast around the fracture, then began to write down notes regarding future treatment such as “Investigate nerve damage.”

The brush behind the compound fence started to rustle. 

Surge froze. He turned his head, searching the area for anything unusual. Everything appeared undisturbed, not a fern out of place.

After a minute, he shrugged it off. Probably just another animal. He jotted down a couple more details about his patient’s condition.

Touching his temple through his helmet, he contacted the captain. “Did anyone end up taking inventory for that shipment of durasteel parts?”

A brief pause. The captain said “I’ll put somebody else on it. You just stick around in the medical bay for now.”

“Got it.” Surge sat himself down on the bench, watching the unconscious soldier’s heartbeat on the monitor while drumming his fingers on the cot.

He was starting to close his eyes when he heard a groan come from his fallen comrade. The medic pushed himself of the cot and stood at the scout trooper’s side.

“Where am I?” asked 38. “My whole body feels like it got flung off of a speeder bike.”

“That’s pretty close to what happened, yeah. You need a painkiller or anything?”

“Thanks for saving my life, then, and a pill would be terrific right now, actually.”

Surge left the cot and opened a cabinet, producing a small canister of universal painkiller tablets. He poured a glass of water as well. “You can swallow, right?”

38’s throat twitched for a second. “Think so.” Surge handed him the pill and glass. “Thanks.”

The medic picked up the medical report, noting that his patient became conscious again at about 400 Imperial Time. He shook his head as he wrote that down. Living on this rock really alters one’s time perception.

The scout trooper quickly downed the pain killer. “You know Doc, we’ve been bunking in the same room for months now, and I barely know a thing about you.”

“That’s the way command wants it and that’s the way I like it.” stated Surge. “And it’s 21.”

“I don’t know who the bigger buzzkill is, you or the captain.” 38 tried to rest his hands behind his back, but grunted in pain when he tried to adjust his elbow.

“Be careful with your arm; it’s broken.”

“I can feel that.”

Surge furrowed his brow. “Don’t get smarmy with me. You’re lucky you made it out of that crash alive. You’re out of commission for a few days, at least. Bacta might be good, but we still need to make sure you’re healed up properly.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to get to know each other a lot better in those few weeks,” The scout trooper said with a grin. “What planet do you hail from?”

Surge didn’t grace his comrade with a response.

“Fine, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll start. I come from Ryloth, from a pretty well-off family. I joined the Stormtrooper corps because I wanted to protect and serve the empire.”

The medic rolled his eyes. “Bantha fodder. If your family had any money, you could have joined the grey-shirts and bought your way into a good position.”

38 frowned. “Well-off for Ryloth standards, okay? And it wasn’t just about the pay, Stormtroopers are heroes! Captain said you’ve been around for a long time; you should know that.”

“You start to lose touch with those ideals when you stick around long enough. Then it’s just a job like any other, aside from the gunfights. I for one am starting to think this war will never end.”

“What’s the matter, doc?” the scout trooper taunted. “Want to get off world already? It’s only been a few months. Is Endor not exciting enough for you?”

Surge got up and stretched his arms. “It shows how little you know. Endor is a vacation compared to a few of the worlds I’ve been stationed on. At least for a mission like this I actually get to use my training. I wouldn’t give this up for anything.”

This finally silenced the scout trooper, who pondered it over for a few seconds. As he waited for a response, Surge sanitized the rest of the room, wiping away a small amount of dried up blood.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what worlds were you stationed on?”

A pause. The scout trooper waited as Surge finished cleaning up the mess and placed everything in the disposal unit. Finally, the medic uttered a single word. “Lothal.”

“I’ve never heard about what happened on Lothal.”

“They did a pretty good job of covering it up, then,” remarked the Medic. “The rebel scum had eyes on Lothal for a while but no one ever expected them to take the planet. It was an imperial stronghold with a massive fleet. Then one day, the fleet completely vanishes, the governor is dead, and we’re being told to abandon world.”

He took a breath. “I saved three of my fellow troopers from the locals that day. We fought like beasts to escape. We lost half of our company and we didn’t hear a single word from our superiors. They just washed their hands of the ordeal and gave us our next assignment.”

“What are you trying to say?” the scout trooper asked. “I knew this work was deadly when I signed up.”

Surge removed his helmet. “Everyone’s so eager to throw their life away for the empire up until it comes time to pay that price. And if you do pay, they will forget about you. You’ll die among faceless thousands on foreign world, and your family will have no clue where to start looking for your corpse. The empire can’t be bothered to nourish its soldiers with real food, much less grant you the honors you deserve when you finally bite it. That’s why I don’t get attached.”

The scout trooper seemed dejected, the awful truth breaking through. “So it’s all just a farce, then. We’re just pawns meant to hold control over strategic planets. High command doesn’t think about us as anything higher than battle droids.”

“If you believe that we’re doing the right thing by occupying hostile worlds and blasting down rebel ships, there’s still plenty of reason to serve.” Surge put his helmet back on. “You’re in stable condition now, so I’m going to go report to the mess hall for dinner. I’ll pick you up a meal, we have to have you eating so you can get back to service as soon as possible.”

“Thanks…” said the scout trooper meekly. “I know you’ve said so much already, but can I at least know what your homeworld is? We were all people before the corps, and I don’t think we should forget that.”

“They certainly try to make you forget.” The medic said. “We’re still people after the corps. And if you must know, I come from Tinnel IV.” 

XXXXXXX

Far out of the vision or sight of the two soldiers, an Ewok scout clad in a brown hood crawled his way through the brush away from the imperial outpost, back to the safety of his treetop home.  
The trap had worked precisely as he had planned it. The injured trooper had been taken under the care of a medic, a rarity at these sites. It was a risky gambit, but if he and his tribe could capture this Stormtrooper, he could teach his magic or healing techniques to the great shamans so that more of his people could survive the hunt.

But there still wasn’t enough information to make a sound judgement. There needed to be some kind of compatibility test first, before he risked the tribe’s safety. He called in his language for his sister. “[Netta, come here. Is your baby sick?]”

The female Ewok’s ears stood up. “[My child is as healthy as can be. Why?]”

“[I need you to pretend that he is so that we can get information on a specific human-trooper. The one with the brown arm looks to be a shaman.]”

“[And you would risk the safety of two of your kin to learn about one human?]” Netta hissed. “[You know how they act, how they wiped out the Grey-Boulder tribe 5 seasons ago. It’s a suicide mission for me and my baby!]”

“[Netta, he has healing skills. If we force him to work for us, we can prevent casualties during the hunting season. No mother will have to feel the pain you felt when you had lost Klero.]”

Netta’s ears dropped. “[You’re right. No mother should ever feel that pain. If there’s no other way, I’ll do what I must.]”  



	4. Chapter 4

Surge walked into the medical bay bearing in his hand a few fruits and a canister of oatmeal on a tray. He placed it down to 38’s side on a small table. “It was all they had this morning, unless you like Nutrimilk.”

“That stuff is foul,” muttered the scout trooper. “At least you know how to take care of me.”

“41 told me that forcing you to drink that crud would help you heal faster. I told him you would rather keep the broken arm if that was your other option.”  
“Certainly a hard choice.” 38 looked around the room. “It’s ridiculous how boring things are when you’re stuck like this. Can’t you hook me up with that holocaster you have? I promise I’ll give it back.”

Surge tilted his head. “How do you know I have a holocaster here? Have you been going through my stuff?” He cracked his knuckles. “It looks like someone wants to get sent to the infirmary off-world.”

38 flinched. “I didn’t go through your stuff! I just caught a peek or two when you opened that lockbox of yours. All I saw was the holocaster, some civilian clothes, and a Ryloth necklace.”

“And from now on, it stays between us. You’re on thin ice.” The Stormtrooper took a seat, filling out paperwork on current supplies at a nearby desk.

The scout trooper rolled his eyes. “You act like it’s such a big deal that I want to know more about who I bunk with. I would share my life story if you asked.”

“You need to have a life to tell a life story.”

“And you told me I was smarmy! I get it, you don’t want to get too attached to anybody here because you’ve lost friends on the field. But please, just one more question?”

“Only if you promise to quiet down afterwards.” said the medic, not looking up.

“If you’re from the core worlds, why do you have a Ryloth necklace?”

Surge gave the scout a sour look. “It isn’t a ‘Ryloth’ necklace. It’s just made in the Twi’lek style. Just because it’s their homeworld doesn’t mean all of them live on Ryloth.”

“You knew what I meant. It’s just weird seeing one off world is all.”

The medic broke eye contact once more. “Yeah, well, a friend gave it to me long ago, alright? Someone I don’t talk to any more from my old life.”

“You must have meant a lot to them if they gave you one as pretty as that. It looked pretty similar to the one I got at home from my girlfriend.”

“She won’t speak to me anymore, so clearly that isn’t true.”

“Why not?” asked 38.

The medic gripped hard onto the desk. “Do I have to say it? She thought it was disgusting when she found out I had signed up for the Stormtrooper corps. She gave me this whole speech about how they run alien worlds like prisons, and she told me she thought I was better than that. I told her we were doing a service to the lawless Outer Rim, and she spit at my feet. It was the last we spoke.”

“Sorry, 21, I didn’t realize-”

Surge cut him off. “Didn’t realize what? That maybe you should have kept your nose out of other people’s business? That maybe I just want to get through my day to day without thinking about how I have nothing waiting for me back home?”

Silence.

“If you want to blab about your life to the whole camp, go ahead. It isn’t your business to ask about anyone else’s. Finish your breakfast. I’m going to go for a walk.” The medic signed the list and placed it into the drawer, removing himself from the seat.

Surge tapped into his comlink, contacting the Stormtrooper captain. “You don’t mind if I do a patrol around the camp, sir? I need to work off a bit of stress.”

“Do what you have to do, 21,” said the Captain, cutting the transmission short.

Finally having the go ahead, the medic took his leave from the medical bay through the, much to the chagrin of his patient. “You’re really going to leave me here with nothing to do and nobody to talk to?”

“Yes, have fun.” The medic waved goodbye and strolled over to the armory to grab a rifle. 

The armory was a small room lined with a number of laser rifles of a number of models. A number of E-11 rifles were available for use, and Surge took one from the rack. When it rattled as he picked it up from the rack, he immediately placed it to the side and picked up another. “Cheap pieces of garbage. What nerfherder thought it would be a good idea to put this back?”

He inspected this new one for any obvious deficiencies, but couldn’t find anything. Satisfied, he took the blaster into his hands and left the armory for the camp’s northern exit.

Surge reached the gate and called out to the guard tower above. “I’m on patrol duty right now, can you please let me through?”

“Identification number?”

“SB-3421.”

“Alright,” the guard called back. “Opening the gate.”

There was a loud buzz, followed by a grinding sound as the gate lifted from the earth. Surge exited the premises quickly, and the trooper quickly closed the gate.

The medic looked around. Everywhere around him was covered in thick brush, ferns and tall grass. Even the road was covered in heavy leaf litter. For the untrained eye, it would be difficult to find any kind of patrol route.

Surge however, had seen many of his fellow troopers follow a specific path that stayed some 400 feet from the fence at most points. He would start his patrol around the guard tower first.

Nothing out of the ordinary on his first loop, and sounds of the wildlife around him put him at ease. There was a spot near the eastern edge of the camp that you could catch water crashing down from the rocks into a creek. A few munyips could be seen catching the air in their membraned wings, their strange song further adding to the serenity of this neck of the woods. He had to volunteer for this more often.

Surge hailed the guard tower as he went around a second time. He mostly bore witness to the same sights until he noticed something strange near the creek. The munyips had all but vanished, and present instead a gray cloth-covered creature, wailing like a wounded animal.

The medic turned his full attention at the little creature and began to approach, gun in hand. “Maybe I should put the poor thing out of its misery.”

The creature looked up in response to the sound of footsteps. Behind a tattered hood was the face of an Ewok, its beady, alien eyes staring at the Stormtrooper. Held close to its chest was a child of its species. “A wokling,” whispered Surge. “It’s a mother.”

The Ewok backed away slowly, before shouting and jumping behind a pile of rocks, where she looked to see if the soldier had left yet.

Surge, realizing that the alien was afraid, lowered the gun. “Hey there, I’m not going to hurt you.” He beckoned her to come forward. “Are you OK?”

The Ewok poked her head from the cover and slowly approached. The fur under her eyes appeared to be damp, and her baby was still clutched close to her breast. The alien began to speak a language he couldn’t understand.

“Slow down there, I can’t help you if we can’t communicate.”

The Ewok stopped talking and gently pushed her baby forward, waking it from its slumber. Confused by the sudden disturbance, it started to cry.

Surge looked at the infant. “Is it hurt? Hungry? Sick?”

The alien continued to speak in its own tongue at a rapid pace as the Wokling continued to cry. 

“Guess I have to play charades to figure out what she needs,” the soldier grumbled. He made the motion of wiping sweat off of his mask. “Are you hot? Or cold?” He switched to a shivering motion, grabbing both of his elbows.

The Ewok mother cocked her head in confusion and brought the baby back to her chest.

“This is going nowhere fast…” Against his better judgement, the medic lifted off his helmet. “Are you hot?” He began to pant heavily for a few seconds. “Or cold?” He returned to the same shivering motion, but this time with chattered teeth.

This finally got through to the Ewok, who mimed back the panting motion with haste. It also tried to mime what he could only interpret as vomiting, albeit creatively. “Alright. I think I have medicine that can help your baby at the campsite, ok? Stay where you are, and stay out of view to the other troopers.”

The alien nodded, continuing to clutch her young tight.

After retrieving his rifle, Surge clambered around the brush back to the camp entrance, calling to the guard tower to let him enter back in.

“Your shift started 20 minutes ago, there’s no way it’s over already.”

“I forgot to use the outhouse before I left,” said the medic.

The guard brought his hand to his face. “Idiot. Get in here and make it quick.”

The soldier once again opened the gate, allowing Surge to slip through. He made a beeline towards the medical bay, where he immediately searched through his supplies for a bottle of antibiotics.

“Uh, Doc?” 38 asked. “Why are you tearing up the supply cabinet?

“Looking for the painkillers. I have this killer migraine that’s making it impossible for me to get anything done.” He slipped a few antibiotic pills into his personal first aid kit in a small container.

“I remember you putting the strong stuff in the cabinet above the sink, if that helps you.”

The Stormtrooper smirked. “I said help a migraine, not condemn myself to dependency.”

“Hey, I just wanted to be a little more helpful,” said the scout trooper. “I didn’t mean to overstep this morning with the necklace thing.”

“It’s water under the bridge,” the medic said with slight irritation. “Don’t mention it.”

“I just figured it was easy common ground, being men who can appreciate Twi’lek beauty. Good taste is surprisingly rare among those who join the corps.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, maybe after dinner.” Surge waved goodbye to his comrade, and departed for the gate. Seeing the brown pauldron on his armor, the tower guard once again lifted the exit, allowing the soldier to leave the compound.

XXXXXXX

“[He told you to stay over there, Netta? By the creek?]” asked the brown hooded Ewok.

“[Don’t you trust me, Nakkal? I wouldn’t work with a human to kill my own brother.]”

“[It’s not about trust. It’s about making sure we aren’t seen.]” Nakkal pointed towards a branch covered in leaves. “[Climb up there, quickly!]”

Netta carefully secured her Wokling onto her chest within her hood. The two Ewoks then scrambled up the tree and positioned themselves behind the leaf-cover to view the trail, waiting for the medic to show up.

“[I’m thankful you’re safe, Netta.]” whispered the other Ewok. “[I wasn’t sure if Cartuul gave us good information when he said the brown-armed one spared his life. I’m sorry I pressured you into doing this.]”

“[It doesn’t matter now, be quiet!]” The Ewok woman held a finger to the other’s lips. “[The shaman is coming, and I can’t tell if he brought company.]”

The Stormtrooper approached the creek slowly, holding a small first aid kit in one hand and a rifle in the other. To the two Ewoks’ relief, he wasn’t followed. He looked around for a minute, searching for the alien he had seen shortly before. When he couldn’t find her, he shrugged, moving on with his day and returning to the path around the camp.

“[Was that his medicine in his off hand, Nakkal? You were the one who saw him healing the soldier.]” 

“[I think so.]” replied the other Ewok. 

“[Looks like your little gambit paid off then, brother. All we need to do is figure out how to catch ourselves a human.]”


End file.
